


Scream of Agony

by Akhimy



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Incest, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akhimy/pseuds/Akhimy
Summary: Everyone thought they knew the nature of the relationship between Yuri and Mikhail: an uncle tired of his nephew's childish behaviour, and a nephew behaving like a child king who was tired of his uncle's admonitions.But no one knew the real reason for their mutual annoyance, nor the origin of the tension between them.But secrets always come out one day, don't they ?
Relationships: Mikhail Arbatov/Yuri Arbatov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	1. Distress

**Author's Note:**

> Small part of the work on Misha and Yuri to make you wait between the big chapters of Deadly Sins ;)  
> I hope you'll like this little work :))

Mikhail stands in front of a large bourgeois house with brick and white stone walls and large windows. It was a beautiful house, probably dating from the 19th or 20th century, rather elegant and well maintained.

_It is less beautiful than dad's house._

Thinking about his father hurt his chest and Mikhail held back a gasp of pain as tears threatened to flow.  
Behind him, the henchman who had brought him here on his father's orders took his things out of the trunk and met him at the door.  
\- Your things.  
The man put them at his feet, telling him he wouldn't do any more, and returned to the car, which started a second later, leaving him alone at the entrance of the imposing building.  
The young boy took his two bags containing the necessary things, his father having told him that his uncle would buy them for him, and rang the bell at the entrance, his anxiety growing within him as he waited for the door to be opened.  
Yuri. That was the name of his uncle, his father's younger brother. He had only met him two or three times, when he had come to talk to his father about urgent matters and had not told anyone of his arrival, and each time it was only for a few seconds.  
The door opened on his uncle, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a build so impressive that Mikhail stepped back in surprise, and with his blond hair pulled back with locks of hair falling in front of his forehead.  
The glacier-blue eyes and hard face that bore an air of annoyance softened slightly when they saw who was standing at the door.  
\- Vasilis had told me that you wouldn't be arriving before 3 p.m.  
\- He was in a hurry to get rid of me.  
He said it in all sincerity. His father is trying to get rid of him after the passion he once had for his mother disappeared. Anyway, to Mikhail, it looked like this.  
\- Let me get your things, I'll show you the house.  
The young boy thanked the man in a low voice and followed the man who took him to the first floor where his room was.  
\- I'll let you get settled in.  
Mikhail thanked his uncle with his lips, who put the bags on the bed before leaving, closing the door behind him. The young boy looked at his empty room, which contained only a desk, a wardrobe, an empty bookcase and his bed. He mechanically put his things away in the wardrobe before looking out the window where he had seen a grassy area surrounded by trees and vegetation. Maybe Yuri would like to buy him a goalie and a ball? After all, his uncle had volunteered to take care of him, so he must have expected to spend some money on him, right?  
With a heavy chest, Mikhail looked pale out of the window and slowly left his room to discover his new surroundings. The mansion where he had grown up had always frightened him, especially at night when he had to go to the bathroom, because of the dark walls, the narrow corridors, the small windows with little light and the creaking floor. His imagination was always working against him and he couldn't help but imagine that a monster or creature of the night was standing at the corner of a corridor or right behind him. And, despite his urgent need to relieve himself, he would often end up going back to his room and jump into bed to prevent the thing hiding underneath from grabbing him by the foot if he got too close.

He thought bitterly of his mother, who always accepted him in the parental bed when his father wasn't there - for he considered that a child should sleep in his bed, nightmare or not - and hugged him, singing to him that monsters wouldn't do it. Don't come looking for him until he finally fell asleep, lulled by his voice and his fruity perfume which seemed unique and strangely comforting.  
Here, the walls were white or pale and the light wood floor did not crack under his weight. The windows were large and, no doubt, it was an optical effect, but the corridors seemed less narrow and warmer to him.  
His steps led him to a guest room that seemed unused and to his uncle's room.

_Too tidy._

His uncle's room - or rather the room that followed him - was devoid of any personality: no clothes or objects were lying around and Mikhail doubted that he could find the slightest speck of dust on the antique furniture. The rest of the floor had only a bathroom, a toilet and a library. And like all middle-class houses, the rooms on the ground floor were not separated by doors-even if they had been in the past-and gave them an appearance of vastness that made Mikhail dazed, at least as much as the sophisticated moldings on the ceiling .


	2. The women in his life

\- We are invited to Vassili's wedding.  
The news pulls a tooth grinding from Mikhail. The young man put the milk in his cereal and sat on the bar where he had breakfast and snacks. He answered with a grunt and Yuri scolded him with a simple snap of his tongue, he too stingy with words in the morning.  
For once they were of the same opinion about something. His uncle distractedly stroked Zoya, the long-haired black ans tan chiwawa he had given him for his tenth birthday - his first year at his uncle's house - before silently drinking his coffee.  
He wouldn't even bother to ask his uncle if he could avoid taking part in something that was so repugnant to him. Yuri would tell him that he was a member of the family and, even though he had the lowest place in the family hierarchy as a bastard child, as such he had to be present at the ceremony.   
Mikhail just felt anger towards Vassili, especially since he had to be present at the funeral of Anastasia, his father's first wife.  
Poor Anastasia.  
He's disgusted by his parents, and sad for Anastasia. Her husband, who had only been faithful to her during the young years of their marriage, had brought his mistress back to his funeral and had not had the respect to at least pretend to be saddened by his wife's death.  
He swallowed a bite of his cereal and watched the wind swirl the dead leaves in the garden. While his wife was suffering in hospital, eaten away by an illness with a name that was far too complicated and which would kill her after more than ten years, his father had taken his mother as his mistress and, without worrying about the infamy of her actions, had installed her in the mansion and in the marital bed as if she were his wife.

Mikhail had only learned of Anastasia's existence from his uncle who had brought him to her. He remembered the pressure of his uncle's hand on his back as he brought him into this white room and the smell of sickness and death that had put him off. And there was this woman, in a bed too big for her, pale as the immaculate snow of the morning, with hair like a golden crown streaked with silver, her eyes as blue as the azure of the sky looked at him with a softness that made him shudder. He did not dare approach this unknown woman for fear that her body, so thin and fragile because of illness, would turn to dust if he made the slightest sudden movement.  
The woman must have been strikingly beautiful once, before the illness aged her prematurely, a young woman who was impossible not to remember, the one who haunted you in dreams that you never remember but which left you moved to tears and the heart vibrating with an intense and unknown emotion.  
\- Come closer, my child.   
The voice of the stranger was soft and broken by the illness and her eyes fell on her uncle who was standing behind them.  
\- You can leave Yuri to us. And thank you for bringing him to me.  
Her uncle had smiled slightly, as if touched by the sweetness of the woman, and had gone out silently to leave them alone.  
His footsteps had led him to the woman's bedside, who offered him a tired smile.  
\- What is your name, child?  
\- Mikhail.  
He hadn't dared to ask any questions. Not in front of this woman who subjugated him and shook him to the core of his being. He was in the presence of a saint, a divine being trapped in the body of an unhappy and dying woman, and his soul knew this and trembled with happiness, because such an encounter was rare and precious.  
\- It is a beautiful name Mikhail. "He who is like God. Come, sit on my bed, I'm not going to eat you.  
He had obeyed her wisely and sat carefully on the edge of her bed, avoiding touching this being so intimidating by the kindness that shines in his eyes.  
\- My name is Anastasia.   
He had seen the woman's gaze veiled with sadness and suffering, and Mikhail had felt his heart clench. Was it he who was causing her such great sadness?  
But the woman, no, Anastasia, had blinked her eyes and the sadness had disappeared and he had shuddered when the emaciated hand of infinite gentleness had landed on her cheek.  
\- Please, Mikhail, tell me about yourself. I want to know who Vassili's son is.  
So he had spoken to her, hoping to ease the woman's heart and bring her some company. He had talked to her about everything, even the most insignificant things, for he had been able to see the woman's blue eyes shining dreamily and her light smile full of nostalgia.   
It was only in the evening that Yuri had come back, entering the room silently so as not to disturb them as he spoke with his mouth full of cookies under Anastasia's tender gaze.  
\- It's time to go, Mikhail.  
The young boy had nodded his head and got out of bed before Anastasia said, his blue eyes again filled with sorrow:  
\- Thank you for coming, little Mikhail. Come back anytime. I would love for Vassili to visit me from time to time.  
\- He said he would come soon. I will remind him.  
It was the first time Mikhail had heard such a bitter tone in his uncle's voice and, despite his young age, he understood that "soon" meant "never".

\- The wedding's in two days, we'll pick you up a suit after school.  
He nods his head and his thoughts go back to Anastasia, who always offered him candy or cookies when he came to visit her. Anastasia would talk to him about her childhood and Vassili - and Mikhail was angry that he thought she was just a former mistress who had been valuable to his father and whom he still loved. Anastasia who was abandoned in this hospital room with no company other than those who cared for her, Yuri and his own. Anastasia who dreamed of leaving this room to be with her husband. Anastasia who was convinced that if Aniki did not come it was because seeing her in this state was unbearable for her. Anastasia who had hoped until the last minute that Vassili would come and who had been heartbroken when she finally understood that he wouldn't come.  
He would never have done such a thing to Anastasia. And when he grows up, he won't do it to his wife either, even if their marriage was arranged. No, he would come to her every day and not bring her such dishonors.   
He will do everything not to resemble his father and to cherish the person he loves.

Marriage makes him want to throw up. His father's new wife, Erina, if he remembers correctly, is a Russian woman with ink hair and moss green eyes. It seems to him that she is half-Japanese, given some of her features and the softness of her face and the slight accent that tints her Russian.   
He watches her parading around in her shimmering wedding dress and Mikhail wonders what she has more than Anastasia and her mother. Probably that more exotic side. His uncle is next to him and forces a happy look on her face, even though he doesn't like the wedding.   
Mikhail left his uncle who had started talking to a politician for a moment and went to the buffet for a caviar blinis.   
\- Mikhail, come here!  
Vassili's thunderous voice almost startled him. His father motioned for him to come closer, his grey eyes shining with happiness as he held his new wife by the waist.  
\- Erina, this is my son, Mikhail. Mikhail, this is Erina. I'll leave you two to get acquainted.  
The woman's suddenly cold, reptilian gaze made him shudder, and his heady scent overwhelmed him as she leaned over him as she forced a fake bright smile on his face.  
\- Nice to meet you, Mikhail. How old are you?  
\- I'm ten.   
\- And you don't live with your father?  
\- With my uncle.  
The gleam of satisfaction in his green eyes makes him spit his blinis in this woman's face, but he holds back because he knows he'll be met with the wrath of his uncle.  
\- And who's your mother?  
His mother? He doesn't really remember her name, just that it started with a V.   
\- Former mistress.   
She's gonna find out anyway, that kind of thing goes around the halls.   
The bride's gaze became less cold and she patted his head before walking away, having realized that he was no threat to her.   
As a bastard, he was unlikely to inherit the organization or even have a high position. Unlike his uncle who, by accepting to take charge of his education, had become his father's right-hand man and would undoubtedly inherit the organization if Aniki died before he was an adult.  
He mumbled an insult, his gaze shooting the snake hanging on his father's arm, and joined his uncle who was beginning to put on his jacket.  
\- Shall we go already?  
\- Yes, we're going already.   
His uncle threw daggers at his father with his eyes and Mikhail didn't protest when his uncle gave him a piece of the wedding cake to shut him up.  
Mikhail didn't like it when his uncle was angry because it meant he was going to unload on him and the boy still remembered the bitter slap he had received after walking through the city streets in the dark. He had not yelled at him, not yelled at him. Just a slap before he dragged him to his room and locked him there.  
That night, lying in bed, Mikhail distractedly caressed the cross that Anastasia had offered him, and his stomach turned as he thought of his mother who had abandoned him overnight, and a terrible doubt crept into him, accompanied by that icy shiver he got when he swallowed ice too quickly, and the cogs of his brain began to turn for part of the night, only ceasing when fatigue finally overtook him and plunged him into a troubled sleep.


	3. The weight of a mother's suffering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, here is the third chapter of Scream of Agony which, I know, is a bit late ( a little blank page syndrome and some rewrites were necessary to find inspiration ^^ )  
> Anyway, I hope you like it ;)

Mikhail didn't like school. The childish carelessness of his classmates irritated him, as unbearable as seeing them with their parents, hearing them talk about family outings and the gifts they were given. Each time he felt as if thousands of needles were sticking into his chest and lodged deep in his heart. And the pain was so intense that he couldn't breathe, that tears threatened to flow like rivers of fire that would hurt him as much as the wounds in his heart, and that he needed all his strength not to bend in two in pain and give in to his desire to scream and cry.   
Mikhail didn't like school because he was alone. The games of others seemed ridiculous to him and he saw no point in playing with girls who thought they were princesses that charming princes had to save. Because it hurt him to see those games and his chest was burning with rage. Because there were princesses in distress, but there were also princes charming, and he couldn't help but react with the same violence that was in his stomach.  
And the girls would look at him with anger in their eyes and say that it was mean to say such things. And the boys would make fun of him because they were jealous that he could get so much attention from the girls and mistresses, and that making fun of him was the best way to reassure their egos.  
Mikhail didn't like school because it was boring and tasteless. He felt like he was wasting his time, listening for weeks or even months to the same rules of grammar and math that he already knew and that others seemed to find so hard to learn. So he would distract himself during class by talking to his table neighbours or drawing or asking questions to get the teacher to move faster in his _fucking_ subject. And the teachers would yell at him about how insolent and impertinent he was and how he was a disruptive element.   
And inevitably they would tell his uncle who, although at first he seemed to be trying to understand him, soon got tired of being called twice a week and started shouting at him, saying that not everything would always be served to him on a platter, that he had to learn to live with other people and that he was out of the question of changing anything because of his little whims. It was also the first time that he tasted the bite of the whip that his uncle had also been given as a child, and as he cried and the pain radiating from his back reminded him of the acid burn from the venom, he wondered if his uncle was doing this because he thought it was the way to bring up a child who was said to be undisciplined or because it was a twisted way of indirectly attacking his brother?   
Mikhail liked school for only one reason: the swimming pool. The water soothed him, cleared his mind. So he swam until he couldn't take it anymore, until all those Why? would disappear, until the resentment and anger he had accumulated would temporarily sink deep into his subconscious - for he knew that as soon as he put his clothes back on they would come back at full gallop, until the stabbing pain in his chest subsides and relieves him of his immense weight, until his head is empty and he is too tired from his furious swimming to have the courage to stand up to adults who are deaf and convinced they are right.   
He likes the pool because he can meet his friends, young people from the neighbourhood, the older ones of whom look like punks. Young people he had already glimpsed when his uncle drove him to school, the old man forbidding him to go out with them because of their deplorable education and bad influence. They had laughed at him at first, saying that he was just a wise boy unable to disobey "those adult choirs", that he wouldn't fit in with their band. 

Mikhail had seen it as a challenge, an ordeal to overcome to show them that he was like them, a child that adults didn't listen to either, that he was capable of doing like them and sending them packing.  
He spent all his days with them, pranking people by throwing balloons filled with paint on the facades of houses or scratching their cars and fighting other young people for a piece of "territory".   
Mikhail was having fun with them and, for the first time, he felt like he had friends, and with them he let his rage run free and, exceptionally, the pain in his chest had disappeared. Unfortunately, these hours of amusement cost him each time the bite of his uncle's whip, which reminded him that he was not allowed to go out, let alone have fun with friends, until he straightened up his stitches and his behaviour. And Mikhail was just thinking about the fact that if his uncle wanted to, he could just lock him in his room to keep him from going out.

He stopped seeing them the day his uncle told him, with a tone of frightening calm and eyes that looked at him with a fury that made him shudder with anguish, that they had to talk. His uncle never spoke. Mikhail took Zoya in his arms to reassure himself, his hands nervously rummaging through the soft fur as he watched his uncle open a drawer to pull out some photos, which he put down so violently that the sound of his uncle's hand hitting the wood on the desk startled him.  
\- What's that?  
He glimpses the photos that Lyov, the leader of their group, a young teenager with brown hair that he bristles with gel and grey eyes, had taken when they had been at the swimming pool, and the young man does not understand the reason for his uncle's anger.  
\- Ah...That. This is when I went to the pool with my friends.  
\- These neighborhood punks had this. Is this the kind of friends you're talking about?  
\- It's because you were reckless and foolhardy that you ended up exposing your body to others like this. Are you aware that you are a member of this family, Mikhail?  
Mikhail looked away, his hands still caressing Zoya's soft hair before he whispered in a low voice, a feeling of anger beginning to bubble inside him.  
\- They're just pictures. It's no big deal.  
Zoya stood up on his legs and wagged his thick white tail, demanding more caresses.  
\- You have to be especially careful at your age... I can't allow even someone at the foot of the table to act so anarchically and bring shame to the family.   
His uncle stopped for a few seconds before adding:  
\- Since Vassily has put me in charge of your education from now on. Perhaps you are going to dirty me too by seducing me with your charms?  
It took him a few seconds before he understood his uncle's first sentence. Was his father tired of having to find him a new school every time he was fired? Had he decided that Yuri would educate him himself from now on. But he didn't understand the second one. What was his uncle talking about? And why was he accusing him of doing something he'd never done before?  
The feeling of injustice hit him like a wave that destroyed the dam he had built in his path so that it wouldn't crack, and under Zoya's barking, he ended up shouting, turning his head to look at his uncle:  
\- I've just come out to play with my friends! I don't know what you're talking about!  
His uncle frowned and the anger flared in his icy eyes as he replied with a coldness equal to that in his eyes:  
\- Did you just answer me? I see...  
He sees his uncle turning away to look for something above the library and Mikhail felt the horror creep up his spine as he sees him with a whip in his hands, and maybe it's just his imagination, but he suddenly feels that his face is plunged into the shadows and it frightens him even more.

\- Take off your shirt and turn around.   
Mikhail lowered his head and laid Zoya on the ground before executing himself, anger giving way to resignation as he showed him his scarred back, listening with some fear to the sound of the plastic his uncle was impatiently beating on his hand.   
\- This behaviour is unacceptable.  
He gritted his teeth when the first blow came, determined to show the least possible emotion as his hands pulled on his shirt with each blow, the hard plastic of the whip hitting the scars left by the whip hard.   
The punishment stopped when Mikhail's back was on fire and his sight was clouded by tears and pain. Trembling, the young boy barely reacted when his uncle knelt down in front of him and lifted his chin.  
\- Look at me, Mikhail.   
The young man obeyed and shuddered when he saw that his uncle seemed calm again, his sudden excess of anger gone, and, for a moment, Mikhail felt as if he was seeing his uncle again as he tried to understand him.   
\- Do you know why I have these pictures?  
Because he was an asshole?  
\- Because your friend, Lyov, is part of a gang associated with the organization.   
His uncle takes the photos and digs through the pile to pull out some Mikhail didn't see. Maybe he wishes he hadn't seen them. His heart turned when he saw that he had been photographed while he was taking a shower and changing clothes.   
\- Apart from the fact that you exposed your scars to everyone, your boyfriend gave these photos to a member of the organization who gave them to me because he recognized you. Otherwise these photos would have ended up in the hands of pedophiles or on shady websites. I punished you because you didn't obey me when I told you not to go out with them, I punished you because you put yourself in danger. I punished you because you messed around in the neighborhood - and don't say no to me because your friend was very talkative. Do you understand me?  
He understood. He understood better why his uncle had told him to stay away from those kids.   
\- From now on, things will be different for Mikhail. Whether you like it or not.   
And it was better for him to put a little willpower into it, the boy assumed, the burn on his back starting to subside just like the tears. His uncle stroked Zoya distractedly before standing up and saying:  
\- your mother-in-law wants us to join her in Japan...  
\- What for?  
He saw Yuri put the photos on the desk and put away the whip before he gets an answer.  
\- She left for Japan a few months ago under the pretext that her maternal grandmother is sick. She asked me to go there to do her a favor and there's no way I'm leaving you here alone.   
He was going to have to make do with that until they arrived in Japan.   
\- Go to your room and get your things ready. We leave tomorrow at dawn.   
The young boy obeyed, not wanting to risk upsetting his uncle again, the pain forgotten under the sudden curiosity that had been wrapping up his mind.

Mikhail watched the landscape unfold from the window of the plane.   
\- Uncle Yuri, what country are we above?   
His uncle left his files to take a look at the window, being careful not to wake Zoya who was sleeping on his lap.  
\- Mongolia. You can see the steppes and here some small towns... Must be a nomadic tribe there, you can see it from the yurts and the herds.  
Mikhail looked at the mass of tents surrounded by herds of goats, horses and yaks that his uncle pointed at him. Excited, the young man continued to ask questions that his uncle was answering, not seeming to be bothered by his questions any more, probably preferring that to a sullen and silent young boy.  
They landed in Japan in the early afternoon, greeted by a round-bellied Erina in a green dress as dark as her expression.   
\- Hello, Yuri. Hello, Mikhail.   
Erina smiled, but her eyes remained frozen, and Mikhail whispered a slight "Hello Madam. ». There's no way we're calling that viper by her first name. As the young woman drove them to a car where a driver was waiting, Mikhail couldn't help but look at the woman's round belly. Was it his father's child or a hidden lover? In both cases, Mikhail already felt sorry for him, because he would soon have to put up with such a mother.   
In the car, the young boy pressed his face against the window, fascinated by the lights and colours of the city and the dense crowd. His fascination only emerged when a sentence finally broke through the barrier of his mind.  
\- I never wanted children.  
Mikhail turned his head slightly towards his uncle and his father's wife, who picked up, his slender arms waving in the air as she continued, unaware that the child's attention was all turned towards him.  
\- I told Vassili, you know. But he didn't listen to me and here I am eight and a half months pregnant. He mustn't know. I don't want him to know that I became pregnant with him and that I preferred not to tell him.  
\- Yet you must suspect that you will have to provide him with an heir one day.  
Erina shrugged her shoulders and replied with a brief, "Later, I'll give him one. But for now, I don't feel ready for that responsibility. "Mikhail's lips pursed before he shut up, and Mikhail felt his stomach twist at the thought that this child was probably no more wanted than he was.  
He and his uncle were staying at a luxury hotel in the heart of the metropolis, not far from the building where Erina lived. Mikhail immediately began to put his things away in his closet while his uncle took off his shoes, looking visibly exhausted from his day.  
\- Uncle. Can I ask you something?  
He sat in his suit on his bed and spoke softly as he would with a wild animal and waited for his uncle to nod his head before asking, a trace of anxiety in his voice:  
\- Why are we here?  
His uncle sighed before taking his face in his hands, running a hand through his hair before answering:  
\- Because she wants to get rid of the baby but she doesn't have the courage to do it herself. After he is born, we'll go and drop him in front of a house where people will take care of him.   
\- How will we know if they will take care of him?  
His uncle's eyes are focused on him and Mikhail swallows before the man responds more softly, as if he felt his anxiety:  
\- One of Erina's men has taken it upon himself to find a family who can take good care of the baby.   
\- Why didn't she have an abortion?  
\- Because in Russia, Vasily would have known. He doesn't have the upper hand in Japan. But in Japan she is not allowed to have an abortion without her husband's consent. So she preferred to abandon him after the pregnancy.   
Mikhail nodded his head, not knowing whether or not he should be relieved for his little brother's future, his hands clasped on Zoya's hair and he made a slight squeaking sound.

 _No, not little brother. You'll never see him. Don't get too attached to him, it'll only hurt more._  
\- And... why did Vasilis marry her?  
\- Because Erina's father promised her he'd inherit the company when he died. It's an arranged marriage. Vasilis agreed but I imagine Erina, for fear of bringing shame on her family and because she's been used to obeying since she was a child, didn't dare refuse. She does what she can in an almost forced marriage with a man she doesn't love.  
He feels his questions starting to annoy his uncle so he shuts up and goes to bed, trying to soothe the pounding of his heart in his chest as he thinks about what could happen to this little baby and the pain comes back when he thinks that maybe that's the best thing Erina will ever do for this child: take him away from this dark environment and offer him a life where he will be loved for who he is and not for what he can bring.   
And Mikhail wants to scream, beat himself, tear out his guts and pull his heart out to stop suffering and not feel like he's drowning in this ocean of pain and torment. He is angry at this child for having the right to a life far from this world, for having the right to be loved and to live a normal life. He is angry at his mother for not deciding to take him away from this world as well. He resents Yuri, Vasily and Lyov. He is angry at everyone and he wants to tear them apart with his nails, tear out their eyes and lint them.   
But the only thing he is able to do at the moment is to cry silently and fall asleep from exhaustion, his pillow stained with tears and his arms clasping his Chihuahua against him.

It doesn't take long for Erina to give birth, only two weeks after they arrived in Tokyo. Mikhail was playing in the hotel room with Zoya when his uncle learns that the viper is giving birth and orders him to leave Zoya to come with him to the hospital.   
They had had to wait for hours in the waiting room waiting at the delivery room, waiting for screams that froze Mikhail's blood and made him want to cover his ears or even hide his face against his uncle's chest to reassure himself. His uncle seemed worried too, as if the screams of pain frightened him as much as he did. And Mikhail wondered for a moment how women could deliberately decide to want children if they had to suffer so much to have them. If he had been a woman, he wouldn't have let anyone put a baby in her belly, he would have killed the first one who tried.   
He was relieved when the screaming stopped and when a doctor came out of the room to tell them that the delivery had gone well and the baby was perfectly healthy. But they would have to wait a little longer before they could see the mother, while she rested a little and changed the sheets.   
When they could see her, the young woman held the baby in her arms, a look of confusion on her exhausted face, as if she didn't know what to do with the tiny being gurgling gently against her chest.  
Curious, Mikhail approached the bed gently so as not to frighten the young mother and stood up on tiptoes to try to see her little brother wrapped in blue blankets.   
\- You should breastfeed him.  
Erina glanced at Yuri before spitting weakly, out of fatigue or lack of verve :  
\- Why?! You're going to take him anyway.   
\- So he can get your antibodies and it will help his immune system.   
Her moss green eyes seemed to become hesitant as she looked at the baby as a lost child, and Mikhail felt her heart clench at this vision as he felt compassion for this woman for the first time. She may have been a real viper, but it was impossible to deny that she loved this child, much more than she would ever want to admit and probably not until she felt ready to have children.  
\- All right. Just this once.

The guilt in his voice made Mikhail's head spin, and he couldn't help but take her hand and hold it gently, as he did with Anastasia when she was in one of his melancholy moments, and he wondered for a moment what his father's former wife would think if she saw him now. Would she be proud of him? Probably she would be disappointed by his behaviour when he was with Lyov, and by the way he had judged Erina. Maybe she'd just be disappointed in the angry, undisciplined boy he had become, if she could still see in him the sweet little boy she had loved.  
The woman's green eyes fell on him and her hand shook his before she whispered:  
\- You're a good boy, Mikhail. You won't tell your father, will you?  
The young boy turned his head to see that his uncle seemed to have disappeared, no doubt he had gone to ask a doctor for something.   
\- I won't tell him.   
Erina nodded her head and released a breast to bring it to the baby's mouth and Mikhail looked away to give him some privacy.  
\- I'm so afraid I'm a bad mother. And I'm afraid of what this child could become by staying with the organization.   
Mikhail gritted his teeth when he heard the shaking in the woman's voice and the woman continued:  
\- Vasily told me that you were perfectly happy with your uncle, that he was taking good care of you. But that's not true, is it? You can see it in your eyes: you have been through too much for a child of your age. And I don't want the same for my children. I want to at least be able to save one of them and let him live a normal life.   
The young man is sure that Erina is crying now, but he doesn't dare turn around to confirm his doubts, and they remain for a few minutes in an awkward silence, lulled by the sound of the baby suckling on his mother's breast, until the ringing of her phone startsle them.  
\- Mikhail, take the baby.   
The young boy obeyed and blushed slightly in discomfort when he glimpsed Erina's breasts in the rush of the moment, as she leaned over to her bag to take out her phone and answer. Mikhail quickly looked away to see his half-brother for the first time: he was small and chubby, with eyes as blue as the sky and blond hair. No doubt they shared the same blood.   
\- Hey there. You know, you're lucky to have a mother like yours.   
The baby seems to be smiling at her and Mikhail can't help smiling stupidly back and twittering slightly, being careful to carry the newborn properly as he feels his heart vibrate with affection for the nameless little thing in his arms. Was this how his mother felt when she held him in her arms? Had his father also felt this sudden love when he had held him in her arms?  
Her questioning stopped when her uncle returned with what looked like a bag full of baby stuff and Erina ended the conversation with the person she was talking to.   
\- It's time to go. Mikhail, give me the baby.   
The young boy reluctantly did so and watched his uncle put a diaper on him and dress him in a softness he didn't think he could, and just as he was about to give it back to her, Erina stood up and reached out her arms to them whispering:  
\- "Please let me hold him one last time.  
Mikhail didn't have the courage to watch her say goodbye to her son. Hearing her crying and desperately whispering words in Japanese was enough to put a weight on her chest and make her want to scream, which didn't help when Yuri almost had to tear the child from her arms and remind her that it was impossible to go back now that she had got stuck in her lies to Vassili. But he let tears flow when his uncle gave him the baby and brought them out under Erina's screams of despair as she tried to hold them back and the curses she put on herself for being such a fool. 

The blue eyes stared at him all the way to Kanagawa. Or was he staring at them? Mikhail didn't care, his mind still tormented by his conversation with Erina and his cries of almost agony as they left, as if they were vengeful demons who wouldn't let him go. Now he knew that he could never look the woman in the eye again without feeling a heavy weight in his stomach, nor could he ever go to Anastasia's grave without imagining her turning her back and whispering her disappointment from heaven.   
He felt as if he had been emptied, as if there was nothing but a shapeless abyss where once there had been a tornado of wild emotions and feelings just waiting to be released. He is now only aware of the baby he is holding in his arms and, ironically, he doesn't care what might happen to them. Nothing matters anymore, except perhaps drowning in those two cloudless skies and hoping not to survive such an experience. He misjudged Erina. Just as he misjudged Anastasia. Erina was just like him; a little girl in a world of power whose life only mattered as long as she was useful. Erina did what she thought was best for her survival, even if it meant becoming a snake with a venom as acidic as that of the snake that dripped over Loki's face to ward off any rival or potential danger. And one day he would become the same as her: he too would spit fire at anyone who posed a threat to his position for fear of losing it and becoming nothing to anyone. No doubt he will also be called a viper behind his back, and people will only wait for the opportunity to see him stumble to take his place or make fun of him.  
And now he knows that Erina's heart is overflowing with love and compassion, enough to notice - the time of a meeting the time of a wedding - that he wasn't doing well contrary to what others claimed, enough to care about the future life of a child she already loved even if she didn't want to - or was she human enough and empathetic enough to care about her neighbour in general - and Mikhail will blame himself for not having been able to see that side earlier.   
His uncle brings him out of his lethargy when he stops the car in front of a traditional house in Kanagawa and tells him something he doesn't understand. He sees his uncle sigh and take the baby out of his arms before getting out of the car and putting the baby with his bag in front of the door of the house and ringing the bell before getting back into the car, just in time to see a young Japanese girl open the door and exclaim in Japanese before quickly taking the baby and the bag and closing the door behind her.  
\- We did the right thing Mikhail.   
His uncle dipped one hand in her hair while he added more softly:  
\- It was Erina's choice. You mustn't feel guilty about this.   
The car rumbles and starts up, her uncle's hand goes back to the handbrake as he continues, his icy eyes focused on the road:  
\- She'll get over it, don't worry... We'll eat out tonight and tomorrow we'll go back to Moscow. 

Mikhail nods his head as the weight he's carrying on his chest seems to be getting heavier and heavier to the point where he's having trouble breathing and his mind seems to have stayed with Erina and the baby. Of the evening, he vaguely remembers dining out and seeing a movie in their hotel suite - Mikhail is pretty sure it was his uncle who let him choose the restaurant and the movie -. But he will clearly remember the moment when his uncle left the bathroom door open while he was taking a shower and he could see his uncle's back in the mirror, covered with a multitude of old scars. He will remember the nausea that made him vomit in one of the garbage cans in the suite before his uncle, alerted by the noise, arrived wearing shorts and a T-shirt and made him sleep with him, worried about his temperature and sudden nausea.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

Mikhail watches Japan become very small as the plane flies over the fleecy clouds and he can't help but think about the fact that the baby's eyes are the same colour as the sky, and the suffering of a mother deprived of her child, and Japan suddenly has a bitter taste in his mouth.  
And he promises himself that the day he will have a wife, he will cherish her like a diamond fallen from the sky and he will make sure that she is not poisoned by this life, so that she will give birth to their children without fear of what they will become and so that she will remain a shining star in the dark sky that is his life.


End file.
